The Final Game
by WerewolfDoctor
Summary: Irene Adler was one of the world's greatest criminal minds and a dominatrix. Did you really think Irene Adler was her real name? AU.


**The Final Game**

**Irene Adler was one of the world's greatest criminal minds and a dominatrix. Did you really think Irene Adler was her real name?**

John had always known that Harry liked to play on the wrong side of the law. At first, he just ignored it. Every kid did stuff like that, nicked sweets from the shop, right? John himself wasn't exactly a saint. So he ignored it. She would grow up.

The problem was, she did, she grew up, and the things she did … John never had any proof, but he knew, and she knew he knew. He would silently beg her to stop, and she would laugh, laugh and laugh, because no one would ever be a match for her.

John Watson left for the army at eighteen, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge that at least she was right on that point. Harry knew how to look after herself.

…

John found himself thinking, later, that he should have known that something like this would happen with Sherlock. It was inevitable.

He had been perfectly happy, giggling away in _Buckingham Palace_ until he had been presented with a bunch of photos of his baby sister in positions that _no one_ wants to see their sister in. He had frozen, the only thought running through his head being _No, no, not again, not now, why me?_ Because Sherlock would beat her, of that he was sure.

Luckily (and really rather disturbingly, if he thought about it for too long) Sherlock and Mycroft seemed to think he was attracted to the photos of the naked woman. Natural, he supposed; Harry was an attractive woman, not that anybody wants to think of their sister in a sexual sense, and again, lucky, because if they guessed the real reason then he would probably just disappear without a trace, courtesy of Mycroft, but still …

John arranged one last conversation as brother and sister. John told her that he would stay on Sherlock's side, no matter what the consequences, he told her that she would lose. She gave that knowing smile she always did, the one that said, 'I will win, I always do.' The game was set and they parted, no longer as brother and sister but as Irene Adler and Doctor Watson.

The game was on, except to John, it felt more like a nightmare.

…

"Punch me,"

John wanted to tell Sherlock that Ha-Irene Adler would be expecting them, and so this whole disguise was pointless, but of course, he couldn't. So he punched Sherlock, avoiding the nose and teeth, and then all that pent up frustration at Sherlock being _Sherlock_ came out. It ended up being quite a while before they got Miss Adler's, well, it was made up to look like a house (ended up looking more like a posh hotel room) but it was really where Miss Adler took her clients.

Sherlock and Irene bantered back and forth. Irene was terrifyingly good, and Sherlock, for once, wasn't completely in control of the conversation. John chipped in and undercut her whenever he could, playing on the fact that he knew her, they had been fighting all their lives, after all.

…

Sherlock saw everything. Admittedly, when they were threatened by the angry American agents he was delayed just slightly because of his anger at John being threatened and concern for John's life. Sherlock didn't care for many people, but you _did not_ hurt the ones he did care about. He had quickly deduced several different methods of getting them out of this situation and the basic histories of the agents (irrelevant for now, maybe relevant later, set aside) he had also noticed that he wasn't the only one concerned for John. Despite having only known him for a few minutes and trying her hardest to conceal it, Irene was concerned for John.

Interesting.

…

Irene had tried to trick John into going out of the room, John knew all his sister's trick, and so they managed to keep hold of the phone. John then insisted they hand the phone straight over to Mycroft. He almost fell over in shock when Sherlock agreed; it was obvious he wanted to examine the thing, take it apart and learn all it's secrets, but John didn't question why Sherlock was agreeing, he just wanted the whole mess to be over.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. They might have fulfilled their contract and recovered the pictures, but Irene Adler had lost her insurance, the game wasn't over for her. John felt like begging her to stop, because if she continued with the game then it would inevitably mean the destruction for one of them, but begging had never worked before, he didn't see why it would work now. The only way to get what he wanted was to win.

And so on and on they played, round and round in circles and she, _The Woman_, seemed to love it. John understood, after all, he had first ran after Sherlock because of that irresistible joy of the chase, but he couldn't stand this, enjoying this spiral into destruction, enjoying destroying his own sister. Because it would either Sherlock and himself, or Irene Adler that was destroyed at the end of this game, and she loved it.

John wondered if he'd ever known her at all.

And, as John knew it would end, Irene Adler was eventually caught. All they needed now was the final proof, the final confession, which of course, Irene Adler would not give.

…

Mycroft Holmes sat in his office, deep in thought. It would be entirely within his power to simply make the Adler woman disappear, or even die, but the whole situation needed to be handled with the utmost delicacy. Perhaps bringing Sherlock on the case wasn't the greatest idea after all. Delicacy was not his strong suit; in fact, his little brother didn't tend to see any need for delicacy at all.

Mycroft sighed. He would not get anywhere tonight. He turned to his emails, hoping for something nice and simple, a politician's affair, perhaps? Those were always fun.

**Thought this might help.**

**Please don't make me disappear.**

**JW**

How had John got his email? Of course, Sherlock, but why? The answer would lie in the attachment. He opened it. A recording, made outside, most likely on a phone judging by the quality.

"_Why did you call me here today, Johnny?"_

Adler. And affectionate with John Watson from the tone of her voice and 'Johnny.' No wonder he was scared of being 'disappeared.'

"_You haven't called me that since Mum died."_

Siblings then. That explained a lot, but not close if the note of wistful longing in John's voice was anything to go by. Well, they were on opposite sides of the law.

"_You're avoiding my question."_

"_We've got a new case. You."_

"_I'm flattered."_

"_This is serious, Harry,"_

Harry? Ah, must be Adler's real name, short for Harriet, perhaps? He'd have to check.

"_You will lose. Just give up, hand yourself in, get protection. I don't want to fight against you like this, Harry."_

"_You know I'll never give up."_

"_I know. But I had to try, because I won't give up just because you're an idiot, and I won't leave Sherlock. We have to have an agreement, for both our sakes. From now on we our no longer brother and sister, if you see me you cannot recognise me."_

"_Why?"_

For the first time he heard vulnerability in Adler's voice. It surprised him that he did not triumph in it.

"_Because them finding out your true identity would destroy you, and it hardly be good for me if they knew I had a criminal mastermind for a sister."_

"_You're too kind."_

The playfulness was back in her voice, but it seemed forced.

"_Tell me what you've done then."_

And so came the confession, inspired by that note of big brotherly pride, which seemed all too genuine for such a moral man as John Watson. Perhaps he was fonder of his little sister than he liked to pretend. That was a feeling he could relate to.

"_Goodbye … Irene Adler."_

"_Goodbye … Doctor Watson."_

Adler left. The recording rolled on until a small voice asked,

"_Why are we cursed with family?"_

And Mycroft Holmes, genius that he was, had no answer.

…

When John Watson was brought in he looked completely unsurprised, and if Mycroft hadn't been an expert on reading people he wouldn't have guessed that John was at all worried. He was, in that moment, every bit the soldier.

"Don't worry, Doctor Watson, I'm not going to make you 'disappear.' If that were my plan you would already be gone. Take a seat."

John raised an eyebrow and relaxed almost imperceptibly. He took a seat.

"I suppose you want to talk about the recording then?"

"Indeed. Tell me."

"Why I made the recording? Or why I handed it in?"

"Both."

John cocked his head and wondered what game Mycroft was playing. Mycroft had _said_ he would survive, but … "I would have thought it was obvious, Mycroft, I said so on the recording. Sentimental, but I expected that to be the last conversation I ever had with my sister. Also, she had her insurance; this was mine, of sorts. I handed it in because I want this feud to be over and honestly, even though she'll hate me forever for putting her there, prison is the best place for her. There are too many people after her blood, many who would torture her for months before they killed her."

"Very well. Goodbye, Doctor Watson, I'll be in touch soon."

"Understood."

And so the saga of Irene Adler was finally over.


End file.
